


To the Point of Perfection

by the_elegant_hedgehog



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, if this isn't your cup of tea then make like the theme song and look away, just assume Olaf lived and maybe no one was stuck on the island, we're going to handwave how we got from the end of the series to here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_elegant_hedgehog/pseuds/the_elegant_hedgehog
Summary: I love you to the point of invention.It is not unusual for Violet to invent things, so she does not think on the things she invents for Olaf, his home, or his theater troupe.
Relationships: Violet Baudelaire/Count Olaf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	To the Point of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Look, sometimes an idea just grabs onto you by the labels, shakes you violently, and says "you gotta write this man".
> 
> And then you do, all the while wondering how you ended up here.
> 
> We're going to hand-wave canon a bit. I don't know at what point this would have had to have diverged from canon to make sense, but assume Olaf didn't die and wasn't stuck on the island with them. Instead, assume he ran away and laid low until one day Violet appeared at his door in order to keep an eye on him.

It is not unusual for Violet to invent things.

Violet does not think of the inventions she creates for Olaf’s home.

She does not think anything of the self-sweeping broom or the automatic dishwasher that clears the table. She does not think of the drapes that draw themselves and let light shine into previously dark rooms. She does not think of the doorbell that rotates through several different songs depending on the ringer’s weight, height, age, and the presence of a spyglass in their pocket. (She certainly does not think of the Count’s face when he rang the doorbell and heard a song that sounded suspiciously like his song ‘It’s the Count’)

Violet does not think of the inventions she crafts for Olaf’s theater troupe.

She does not think anything of the sets that change themselves between scenes or of the new sound affects they use to build suspense or reveal a surprise twist. She does not think of the seats that light up when the person with the corresponding ticket approaches. She does not think of the animatronic concession stand that whirls around to the delight of adults and children alike. (She certainly does not think of the Count’s face when they put on one play or another and she unveils a wedding dress with a train held aloft by small mechanical birds.)

Violet does not think of the inventions she crafts for Olaf alone.

She does not think anything of the Wine-O-Matic that will fetch the perfectly paired bottle of wine from the cellar when a mood or menu is entered into its typewriter keyboard. She does not think of the record player that selects which album to play based on how much force Olaf slammed open or shut the front door and where in the house he stomped off to- a sure indication of his emotional state. She does not think of the self-extinguishing fireplaces she installs after she realizes that Olaf has nightmares of the fire too. 

Violet does not think on these creations, because to her, it is not unusual for her to invent things.

When she visits, Sunny does think on these things, because she knows her sister and she knows Violet invents in the same way that Sunny bites and cooks. Sunny whips together a cake in Olaf’s kitchen and does not say anything when the Wine-o-Matic hums to life and the record player picks an upbeat jazz song as Olaf pulls Violet into a whirling dance.

When he visits, Klaus does think on these things, because he knows his sister and he knows Violet invents in the same way he reads and learns. He idly flips a page in the Encyclopedia of North American Birds Noises and does not say anything about the quote that passes through his mind as Violet explains her latest invention- a watch for Olaf that will cut through any bindings or handcuff and will alert the wearer when they have a minute left until they are due on stage. 

Both of the younger Baudelaire siblings know Violet better than they know themselves. They know she invents because it is who she is at her core and that it comes to her like breathing. 

They also know that just like Sunny cannot bake a single cookie for Esme and Klaus cannot read Carmelita’s gossip column no matter how hard they try, Violet cannot invent for a person she does not like.

So they visit once every month or so and whenever the troupe has a new opening night, and they do not say anything even as they think on the growing inventions and the house that was once a prison but now seems like it might be a home.

And when Violet sends them tickets to the troupe’s latest play along with a message coded with bird song, Sunny bakes a white cake and Klaus re-reads his legal books. They both find their glowing seats in the audience, with the popcorn handed to them by the concession stand. 

They do not laugh or boo or cry with the rest of the audience as a story of tragedy and betrayal and salvation and redemption and hope plays out before them. They know this story, so they only smile and hold hands between their seats.

They watch as sets change themselves out and as props move from one end of the stage to the other without prompting. They watch as Olaf is shoved on stage, and they watch as Violet appears at the back of the theater wearing a wedding dress with a train held up by mechanical birds. 

They stand as she reaches the front row, and Klaus moves to the pulpit that has just moved into position as Sunny walks Violet those last few steps and places her sister’s hand in her almost-husband’s.

For once, Olaf is stunned into silence. He nods when asked the appropriate questions, and only speaks to say in a soft voice, “Are you sure?” when Violet picks up the pen. 

She smiles at him, as radiant as the sun, and signs the license with her right hand. He grins back at her, and signs himself with a dramatic flourish. 

Klaus has barely gotten the final words out before Olaf sweeps Violet into a deep dip and kisses her senseless. 

Much, much later, after the audience files out and the cake is eaten and the party ends and they have celebrated their union as couples are wont to do, he traces her spine and asks when she knew she loved him as he seemed to have missed all of the typical signs.

She sighs in the deep content way only the absolute happiest people do, and tells him a story about rubber gloves. “I love you to the point of invention.” She tells him. “The last three years, all of my inventions have been designed with you at the heart of them. Inventing is like breathing to me, the same way biting and cooking is like breathing to Sunny and reading and learning is like breathing to Klaus. Inventing is at the heart of me, and you were suddenly at the heart of inventing.” She stretches under his large hand. “Now you tell me. When did you realize you loved me?”

“Clearly you already knew that I loved you,” he tries to grumble, but is much too pleased to be convincing in his grumpiness. “I thought I was going to die alone and unloved, with you, my greatest love, just slightly out of my reach.”

She grins. “That’s not an answer.” 

“It is not so poetic as all that.” He concedes. “I feel in love with you a little bit at a time over a long period. Each time you showed me one of your inventions and gifted me with your work, it was like the part of my heart that you owned got a little bit bigger and all of the char and soot on my soul felt a little bit lighter, a little bit easier to bear. You may love me to the point of invention, but I love you in the quiet and unassuming moments. I love you to the point of sanity and the point of mundane and the point of stillness. I do not love you in the way of fire or flood, but in the way of sunlight and in the way of a gentle rain.”

Violet leans over and gently, put surely, presses her lips to his. “That sounds perfect.”

He nods and smiles as he pulls her closer. "That it does."

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of loud, dramatic characters (especially ones with sordid pasts) having a love that is quiet and unassuming.
> 
> This is 100% not proof read and it probably shows. 
> 
> Emily if you're here to judge me, know that I judged myself the entire time so ha, there!


End file.
